Rockefeller
by ElleSmith
Summary: Written for the Gundam Wing Christmas Fan-Works Exchange 2015. Christmas Eve, Rockefeller Center, NYC. Duo watches the skaters glide merrily across the ice rink, waiting for his lover so he could bid him a final farewell.


**_"Rockefeller" was written for the_** ** _Gundam Wing Christmas Fan-Works Exchange 2015_** ** _as a gift-fic for Shinigami-irae who requested a "seasonal 1x2 or 2x3 (including snow, mistletoe, Christmas tree, as you wish!)"._**

 ** _Shinigami-irae, I hope you'll enjoy this modest gift._**

 ** _Merry Christmas!_**

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 **Disclaimer:** GUNDAM WING is a Registered Trademark of Bandai, Sunrise, Sotsu Agency & TV Asahi. This work of fiction was written for non-profitable purposes. Non-Gundam Wing related names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

 **Research Bibliography:**

Aleksandar Štulhofer & Dea Ajduković (2011): Should We Take Anodyspareunia Seriously? A Descriptive Analysis of Pain During Receptive Anal Intercourse in Young Heterosexual Women, Journal of Sex & Marital Therapy, 37:5, 346-358

Collier, K. L., Sandfort, T. G., Reddy, V., & Lane, T. (2015). "This Will Not Enter Me": Painful Anal Intercourse Among Black Men Who Have Sex with Men in South African Townships. _Archives of sexual behavior_ , _44_ (2), 317-328.

Goldfinger, C., & Pukall, C. F. (2011). Sexual Pain Disorders. In _Cancer and Sexual Health_ (pp. 163-182). Humana Press.

McGill, C. M., & Collins, J. C. (2014). Bottom Identity: Matters of Learning and Development. SFERC 2014, 8.

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 **Summary:** Christmas Eve, Rockefeller Center, NYC. Duo watches the skaters glide merrily across the ice rink, waiting for his lover so he could bid him a final farewell.

 **Warning I:** M/M relationship. No sex, just referencing it. The rest is spoilers, sorry. ^^;

 **Warning II:** Please bear in mind that **this is NOT a cheery/fluffy/lovey-dovey Christmas tale.** I don't mean to ruin your holiday cheer, so don't read it if you're not in the mood for some angst...

 **Fic Status:** _Unbetaed_. Sorry! I completed it too close to the GWCX2 deadline.

 **Author's Note:** I never wrote 2x3x2 before. I've always _meant_ to read the praised 2x3 fanfic "Rattlesnakes" by Trixiechick, but never really got around to do it. I just can't picture those two together. Sure, both Heero and Trowa are cut from the same cloth, both being the "strong, silent type", but I think that they're very different. The way I see it, Heero has a fire in him that Trowa lacks.

I might accept some 1x3x1 here and there (just for the sake of variety, and because I think Heero and Trowa have this whole great comradery thing going), but for some reason I just can't picture Duo in a relationship with Trowa, because Duo _is_ fire and that's something he has in common with Heero.

The Trowa I see is all dead inside and Duo can't be with someone "dead" (I just know people are going to correct me on this one. Please do feel free to enlighten me J). He's the God of Death, so he needs life, he needs _"fire"_. The only way I can ever picture Duo with Trowa is if Duo's fire dies out for some reason, and this is what this story is all about.

So, after 15 or so years with 1x2x1 and 3x4 OTPs in my head, I tried to venture (slightly) out of my comfort zone to meet this challenge handed to me in my GWCX2 assignment. I hope you'll enjoy.

 **Elle.**

 **Side Note:** I took some artistic liberty when writing about a medical condition mentioned in this story. It is based on medical literature and research (although it is still fairly controversial), but I must confess that I based it more on the _female_ version of the disorder rather than on how males are affected by it, simply because it served my purpose. Yeah, the joys of being a fanfic writer...

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 **Rockefeller / Elle Smith**

Every tourist visiting New York City for the Holidays knew that the iconic Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center in midtown Manhattan was a must-see; and, even the most cynic of New Yorkers could not deny that there was something magical about it, regardless of having walked past it year after year. The spectacular tree was a beacon for locals and visitors alike. More than half a million people passed by it very day, making Rockefeller Plaza the epicenter of New York City's holiday celebrations.

Come December 2nd the tree was lit in a grand ceremony, and tens of thousands crowded the sidewalks for the event, which was broadcasted live to millions more. It was an age-old tradition, and, since its very beginning, the tree was a reflection of what was happening in the world around it – decorated to mirror world events. Following the Great Eve Battles of AC 195 and AC 196, the tree was adorned in red and gold to symbolize the colors of the newly founded Earth Sphere Unified Nation, and some of its exquisite ornaments resembled the head of a Gundam.

Each year, for over two centuries, the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree continued to be a symbol of hope to many. However, to one man, on the Eve of Christmas AC 212, the tree failed to offer any hope or comfort. To this lone man, the tree symbolized the beginning and the end of everything he held dear.

The thirty-two-year-old man stood leaning against the railing on the promenade surrounding the famous Rockefeller Rink, smoking a cigarette as he watched the skaters glide merrily across the ice below. Sounds of laughter, exhilaration and joy echoed within the gray concrete walls surrounding the small court. Over a hundred people were twirling away on the ice, skating at the base of the majestic Christmas tree guarded by a golden statue. The man watched them with solemn cobalt-blue eyes as he raised his smoke to his lips for another drag.

He was dressed warmly against the cold, clad in a thick black coat complete with a matching scarf, gloves and beanie. Strands of medium-length chestnut-brown hair peeked from under the hat, spiking around his head and framing his pale face, bangs pressed against his forehead. He was leaning both elbows against the thick metal railing overlooking the rink, his posture sagged and weary. A shopping-bag rested at his feet, adorned with an elegant "DEAN & DELUCA" logo; an upscale grocery store not far by. The bag was filled with gourmet food and beverage; rare delicacies that every passerby familiar with the brand eyed with envy, knowing that the bag's content must have cost its owner a small fortune. This was not your everyday grocery shopping; this was the kind of gift a guilty husband would bring home to his wife after forgetting their anniversary. Such remorse had no place on a joyful Christmas Eve, and yet there it was, staining the man's blue eyes with darkness.

The man's bleak blue eyes were looking down at the rink, but they weren't seeing it at all. His dull gaze was that of one who was looking into the past, reflecting back on his mistakes.

And Duo Maxwell had his fair share of mistakes over which to ruminate.

Many people chose to contemplate their lives as New Year's Eve approached; often reaching a New Year's resolution most failed to uphold. But Duo was determined to stick by his decision no matter what happened after tonight. Tonight, he will put an end to his mistake. This wasn't turning over a new leaf, but returning to an old, proper, path.

A figure approached him slowly, as quiet as a mouse. Duo didn't move as it came near and continued to gaze down numbly at the rink. He took a puff on his cigarette, releasing the smoke leisurely as he waited for the figure to reach him. Finally, it stopped less than a foot next to him, standing by the railing; a tall, lanky body clothed in a dark winter getup similar to his own. Even without turning to face the other man, Duo could feel his overwhelming presence – dark and silent, like a shadow tumbling over him. This intense aura used to make Duo's heart thud rapidly, but no more; that fire had died out, extinguished by sheer willpower. He could tell that he was being scrutinized by a pair of steely green eyes and he braced himself for what was to come:

"A bit public, isn't it?" A husky male voice asked quietly; its tone flat and lifeless.

Duo smirked sarcastically and gestured at the bustling rink below. "Easy to get lost in a crowd," he muttered gruffly and finally turned to face his company, raising his gaze up slightly, for the other man was a couple of inches taller – Trowa Barton, 32; tall, dark and handsome.

"Don't worry," Duo assured the other man solemnly, "we're not being followed. He has no idea, really."

"Then why are you ending this?" Came the next obvious question and Duo nearly grimaced, turning away from those demanding green eyes. He should have expected this; Trowa wasn't stupid, he knew heartbreak well and was proficient when it came to anticipating it. The man must have realized it was over the moment he asked him to meet him here on a snowy Christmas Eve.

"Because I shouldn't have started this in the first place." Duo sighed, leaning against the rail again to watch the rink below. His eyes traveled up to look at the beautifully lit Christmas tree towering over the small ice skating arena. His eyes glazed over, losing focus as he wistfully recalled how Heero and he had held hands, sharing a rare romantic moment when they had first visited here on Christmas many years ago and saw that the tree was decorated to honor the Gundams who fought for freedom on Earth that previous Christmas. Cynical as they both were, they couldn't have helped but feel a pinch of warmth in their hearts, and they reached carefully to hold each other's hand, connecting intimately as they gazed upon the tree, sharing feelings and secrets only they could share in front of such a tribute.

That was their beginning, more or less. Up until that night they were just about casual sex, at best. But that changed, right here, in front of the Rockefeller Christmas Tree. It was winter AC 197 and they had just moved to New York City, having completed their Preventer training in Brussels HQ and receiving their assignment under the North American Preventer Branch located in DC. The NYC field office was understaffed at the time, so they were asked to move here instead of relocating to the American capital.

It didn't take Duo long to fall in love with the city. There was something magical about New York City; it was filled with history, culture, art and life. And they needed life, desperately. Duo wasn't the type to handle boredom well, and no one was ever bored in the city that never sleeps. There were plenty of good reasons why people thought it to be the greatest city in the world, why they were willing to live in shoebox apartments and pay crazy-high rent all for the opportunity to live in such an incredible city.

New York was the first place in which Duo actually felt like he could belong, where he could move on and leave his past behind him. It was a city of diversity, where no one ever judged you. Whether you were a part of the LGBT community, a PTSD-crippled veteran or a struggling artist, no one ever looked at you funny. You could be working on Wall Street during the day and headlining as a Drag Queen at night and no one will be even slightly fazed. Anyone could wear what they wanted, do what they wanted and pretty much _be_ whoever they wanted. New Yorkers had a rare sense of acceptance. There was somewhere for everyone, even war-torn ex-terrorists with burdens too heavy to bear. No matter their background, people living in NYC eventually found where they belonged. For Heero and him, it was a small East Village apartment they've made their home for the past fifteen years. Duo didn't think he could have survived through domestic life anywhere else on Earth or space. His new life in NYC had been a major upgrade from his L2-street-rat days; a step in the right direction. Heero didn't see it that way, but Duo knew in his heart that he was a New Yorker now; a damn proud one too.

Finally, he tore his gaze away from the colorfully-lit Christmas tree, casting his eyes down to the rink while exhaling a miserable sigh.

"We should get out before it's too late," he mumbled bleakly, concluding his answer to Trowa's question. "It's time."

"Where is this coming from, so suddenly?" Trowa wondered calmly. His tone was devoid of accusation, confusion or hurt; he was simply enquiring about a decision forced upon him without consult.

"This isn't sudden," Duo countered starkly, turning to face the other man; "It's been a long time coming, and you know it. I was never gonna leave him. Something has to give, so... you gotta go, Tro. I'm sorry." He winced at the bitter aftertaste the words left in his mouth, feeling like the biggest dick in the world. "It's over," he added wretchedly and cast his gaze back down, unable to meet Trowa's penetrating green eyes. He was ashamed; his very soul abashed and aching.

Adultery. Lust. A mortal sin he had committed in weakness and shame for nearly a year, seeking venereal gratification in the arms of another. He had sinned against himself, against God, and more importantly – against Heero, his lover and life-partner for over fifteen years.

It had all started innocently enough. At first, he didn't think he was doing anything wrong. A Humanist at heart, Duo saw no harm in spicing things up a bit with another man. Something was only bad if it made someone else feel bad. An affair made two cheating lovers feel good, whether emotionally or sexually, so as long as their spouses never found out about it, what harm were they doing?

That was the Humanists' strongest case when it came to moral dilemmas: nothing was wrong on the condition that no one got hurt. You can be a cheating spouse, a homosexual, a heretic or an atheist – it was all good providing you weren't hurting anyone. Each person should do what felt good to him, keeping within the boundaries of the law of course, and no holy scripture or some other religious authority should ever be able to condemn these actions.

The sanctity of marriage was an outdated concept that belonged in the Dark Ages. Back then, marriage was regarded as something scared because "God" commanded it, but people married for financial and political reasons, not for love. Adultery was a mortal sin because God and his representatives had once set the tone, but now people married mostly for love, not convenience. Only their feelings for each other gave value to their long-term relationships. And so, if the same kind of love that had once driven a person into the arms of his spouse was now driving him into the arms of another, how could it possibly be wrong? If this new relationship provided things he could no longer get at home, and if the new lover was offering that same kind of love and affection, maybe it was even a good thing?

Society has changed, evolved. Monogamy was slowly dying, and maybe it shouldn't have been allowed to prosper in the first place. The very notion went against human nature. Many researchers claimed that ancient, stone-age, human societies were communal rather than monogamist. There was no such things as private possessions, nuclear families or even the concept of a biological parent. _"It takes a village"_ , the saying went, and back then a community raised its children, who belonged to everyone. A woman could sleep with anyone, and so the father was often unknown and her children could enjoy many fathers – the strongest hunter, the wisest storyteller and so forth. It made sense.

Not that Duo was fooling himself with some kind of a Hippy fantasy. He wasn't looking for such a wild and free lifestyle – not that there was anything wrong with it, it just wasn't his thing. Duo just needed justification; needed to remind himself that what he was doing wasn't abnormal. He truly believed that humans were not meant to be with a "one and only" for the entire duration of their lives. Maybe back when a human's lifespan was no more than fifty years, but today, when most lived to see a hundred – why limit yourself? It made sense, right?

If monogamy was ever to last, it was only for a short amount of time, until children were old enough to fend for themselves. Some claimed that a primal man only stayed with a woman for six to ten years to raise their children, and then moved on to the next. It was no wonder, then, that many modern couples divorced soon after their toddlers grew into small children. Likewise, it was no wonder that many who did choose to live by the mainstream code, building a family and trapping themselves in the illusion of monogamy, eventually betrayed their partners. But Heero and he didn't have any children; they never will, that much was certain. It simply wasn't something they wished to consider. It was just them. It has always been just them, and that used to be enough, but now... enough was enough.

The way Duo saw it, adultery was an integral part of modern-day marriage. And while Heero and he weren't married in the eyes of the law or the church, the result was the same. They were life-partners with nothing keeping them together but their love for each other. Lately, that wasn't cutting it. It was human nature, and what could be more right than living according your own nature?

It was a selfish point of view, one that went against everything he'd been taught at the Church as a child, and thus it tormented Duo greatly. No matter how much he tried to rationalize and assure himself that he wasn't some sort of loathsome sinner, his Catholic upbringing almost always gained the upper hand, more often than not crushing its Humanist counterpart in a brutal match of philosophical arm wrestling.

Catholicism and Humanism could never go hand in hand. A part of him refused to accept his Humanist rationalization. For the past few months, Duo found himself struggling with his conscience. He might have adopted the Humanist way of thinking as an act of rebellion, feeling betrayed by a God who had failed him time after time, but now he felt that his permissive way of thinking has strayed him too far from his religious upbringing, and more accurately – away from what _felt_ right. His tolerant views have become a little _too_ lenient for his taste. He had sobered-up, and what felt right a year ago now felt terribly wrong. He didn't need God to know that what he was doing was mistaken.

People usually stayed on the correct course simply because it was the correct one, not because they were God-fearing folks. Most never committed murder not because the Bible said so, but because they _knew_ it was wrong. Same with adultery. These were sins against fellow men, not God. Hence, they were worse than anything one could do against God.

So no; Duo wasn't breaking things up for God. He was doing it for Heero. It didn't matter that his life-partner hasn't found out about the affair yet. He was still being harmed, he just didn't know it. It was time to put an end to this destructive path and do right not only by God, but by Heero.

"When did you decide this?" Trowa asked quietly, trying to understand.

"Couple of weeks ago..." Duo heaved the words out with another sigh and raised his cigarette to his lips. He took a long drag, his eyes still on the rink below, and exhaled the smoke slowly.

"About the same time I sent a request to join Midnight Mass here at Saint Patrick's." He gestured backwards casually with his hand, pointing in the general direction of the renowned NYC cathedral towering nearby. "Lucky for me they still had a few openings... like it was meant to be." He turned to face Trowa, his eyes glaring with fiery determination seen only in the eyes of a man who's decided to face judgment, returning to God for reckoning and absolution.

"I'm gonna go there, cleanse my sins, and go back home to him like none of this ever happened," he stated firmly. "I suggest you do the same... whatever it is you do to ease your conscience. You should go back to him, Trowa. Go back to Quatre. Forget this ever happened."

"But it _did_ happen," the taller man insisted, his words hard and biting. He didn't see things the way Duo did, but there was nothing Duo could do about it.

"You can't just wash this sin away, Duo. It will always linger, always."

"Guess I'll just have to learn to live with it," the blue-eyed man mumbled, casting his gaze down to the ground briefly. "As long as Heero doesn't find out... I'll manage."

"I left him," Trowa let out suddenly, whispering the words as though he was embarrassed. He lowered his eyes to the floor, staring at his shoes. "It's over."

"God damn it, Trowa!" Duo exclaimed heatedly, his eyes both angry and wounded. "Why'd you have to go and do that for?!"

"It wasn't fair to him." Trowa turned to lean against the railing, gazing ahead at the enchanting Christmas tree across the rink. "He knows," he whispered and slowly turned to face Duo with hard green eyes. "Everything. It's over," he repeated numbly, as though still trying to affirm the grim truth behind the words. "I have nowhere to go back to."

"Shit, man!" Duo moaned, shaking his head in denial. Slumping against the cold metal railing, he leaned forward and looked down at the rink, his dull blue eyes following the skaters skidding happily across the ice.

 _It wasn't supposed to be this complicated_ , he thought sadly. He didn't enter into this mess looking for "complicated". He wasn't looking for a way out either, just... just a small detour. A break from everything; from all that was so terribly dreary and familiar. He's been with the same partner for close to two decades and he's been faithful that whole time, but remaining loyal felt like all he had going for himself in that relationship, and it wasn't enough anymore. His life wasn't enough anymore. Heero Yuy wasn't enough anymore.

Funny; there used to be a time when he couldn't get enough of Heero. They fell in love while still in their teens; a crazy, passionate and thrilling kind of love one could only enjoy at sixteen. In many ways, they were like high school sweethearts: they met in their adolescences and haven't separated since. Initially, that wasn't a bad thing, not at all. They grew up together, having had the privilege of mutually shaping into adults. They were there for each other's awkward teenage years and went through a gruesome war together, yet lived to tell the tale. In the years that followed the war, they've gotten to experience some of life's most important milestones together. Those crucial years helped them develop a similar taste for things (be it music, movies, or junk food), and although their tastes have evolved and changed over the years, they could always find a middle-ground in something they both enjoyed. There was less friction that way. They were best friends before they were lovers, and that was a strong and unyielding foundation for their romantic relationship.

They've entered into civilian life together, meeting the same challenges posed by veteran life and being each other's support system through the hardest moments of their early adulthood. Growing up as child-soldiers was rough, but surviving through their twenties was even rougher. Those were the years during which they had to decide what to do with the rest of their lives, learning to navigate the _real world_ and cope with their difficult pasts. Having a steady partner through all that change was priceless. Their love only grew stronger during those trying years. They got to learn each other's aspirations and dreams and then got to watch them come true, together. They probably wouldn't have made it alone.

Growing up as a couple, they had learned who the other really was, slowly letting their guards down instead of putting up walls as most people did when growing up. They had a fair share of inhibitions to begin with, but relationship-wise, at 16, one doesn't have time to develop hang-ups or put up walls; what you see is what you get. It was an honest love in its purest form. They kept each other honest. It was impossible to be someone you're not when around the person who's known you since before you were a legal adult.

So sure, they hadn't played the field enough (or at all...); they had limited their options from the very beginning and some would even say held each other back. Such relationships had to endure a lot of criticism. People tended to think that just because one chose to spend his or her life with a single partner, they was missing out on life experiences, and that eventually they'd split up, but back then Duo refused to give into such an ignorant preconception. He knew their love was strong, as often the case with "high school sweethearts", and that it will survive. That hasn't changed; he still believed they could work their way out of anything, even this.

God, but there were problems... there were so many problems. Back then, they just didn't know any better; it was all very normal, because it was the only thing they knew. Problems were part of the package. Their relationship might have gotten off to a rocky start and went through numerous rough patches over the years, but they loved each other deeply, so nothing was ever too daunting. They had faced their problems head-on, sticking by each other through so many lows, but now...

Issues they once overcame together reemerged over the years, becoming a hindrance rather than a challenge. Not the heavy stuff like falling off the wagon when it came to Heero's recurring drinking problem, or Duo's occasional relapse back to substance abuse – that they could handle – but the more underlying issues, like Heero's problems with intimacy, for example. Just one difficulty out of many, but perhaps the most troublesome.

Heero didn't like to be touched – _at all_. He didn't as much as flinch when touched, as he did recoil mentally; one could see it in his eyes. He didn't object to being touched by Duo, whether intimately or casually, but he was merely _enduring_ it until the _"ordeal"_ was over. It was an obligation Heero fulfilled dutifully as a lover – allowing touch and sometimes offering it – but Duo knew that he hated every second of it, and he hardly ever offered it out of genuine need for physical closeness. That didn't go to say that he didn't seek intimacy or sexual gratification, but he could do without it just as well. It was a sensitive issue that caused a lot of friction between them, especially in the last few years, because Duo really expected Heero to be over it by now.

Conventional therapy didn't seem to help Heero deal with his inherent aversion of touch, but lately he's been going through something called _"_ _Safe Touch Therapy_ _"_ , which was basically seeing a massage therapist who helped facilitate a patient's connection with his body and emotions, thus assisting him to overcome trauma. Heero has been doing it for a few months now, attending weekly sessions, and Duo supposed that there was _some_ progress, but not as much as he would have liked. Heero was still bothered by close contact, and actually seemed to grow more distant over the past few months. Duo couldn't recall the last time they slept together.

Sex was a problematic issue between them, and not because of mismatched sex-drives. They've had so much trouble getting into bed together, at least when it came to "going all the way". From the very beginning, back when they were just fooling around between battles, Duo knew with absolute certainty that he was a top. He could never be anything else, no way. A part of him always feared that offering himself as a bottom would somehow compromise his masculinity. Although he would still be judged for having sex with a man, people could more easily understand the role of a man who penetrates.

It was a sad truth that the complexity of the meanings and connotations of penetration between two men was muddled by social stereotypes and preconceived notions, but worst of all – the inadequacy of the language people used to address the issue. Duo didn't want anyone to look at him and wonder if he was the "man" or the "woman" in the relationship. He was a man, despite what people used to think due his ridiculously long hair back in the day, and he didn't want anyone to ever doubt that, including himself. Gay men were stigmatized enough as it were, and he had no intention of adding fuel to the flame. Even in the gay community, bottoms were judged on an entirely separate scale, often being more severely denounced because penetration was considered feminizing and shameful. Duo had no interest taking on that role, no arguments.

Heero, however, didn't see it that way. He wasn't bound by the same cultural and social roles tops and bottoms were assigned purely for their position when engaging in sexual intercourse. He was never truly exposed to society, so it was easier for him to negotiate with such stereotypes. Cultural scripts such as passivity, masculinity and power never dictated his sexual orientation. He was with someone for love, not gender. While he understood that the stigmatization against bottoms stemmed from the association of being penetrated with being a woman, it didn't deter him. Heero never contributed such excess of significance to being a bottom. It was all purely technical in his eyes. Some gay men chose to be bottoms because they attributed emotional and spiritual significance to this form of deep communication, but Heero chose it because Duo wouldn't, and he had no real issue with it. His sexual submission was simply a practical choice.

While most viewed submission as an important component of being a bottom, ascribing the knowledge of imminent pain to be an integral part of this submission, Heero argued that "to be penetrated is to abdicate power" [[1]]. He didn't mind it, for he viewed it as an opportunity to escape life's pressures that almost always required that he'd invest significant energy and exhibit firm authority; unlike his high-ranking job at Preventer, at least in his sex-life, he could let somebody else take charge.

Alas, although Heero had no moral or egotistic objections to being a bottom, the amount of trust, the extent of relaxation and the state of mind one had to reach when allowing anoreceptive intercourse, was beyond him. That was where the problems began.

They tried... so many times. Each time ended in blood, sometimes tears, and almost always in a spiteful argument full of unnecessary accusations. Heero wanted to submit to the experience, at least he thought he did, but he couldn't. No matter how many times they attempted to have sex or how much they tried to take it slow and ease the penetration, he couldn't take it, not without excruciating pain. And while Duo knew that his partner could take the pain, he had no intentions of torturing him. Sex between two people in love was supposed to be about connection and mutual pleasure – an expression of love – and not a duty one resigned to while knowing they will suffer greatly.

Pain-free anal intercourse required relaxation, combined with sexual arousal and proper stimulation, lubrication, and slow, often gradual, penetration. Discomfort and pain during receptive anal intercourse should hardly be surprising, so they weren't discouraged at first. Since they never really had the time or opportunity to take things slow during the war, they waited. They figured that there was still hope and that everything will be fine with time. Then, when the war was a sure thing of the past, they tried again. But no matter how carefully and slowly they tried to take it, taking care to use plenty of lubrication, foreplay, muscle-relaxants and laxatives, Heero still couldn't handle penetration. It seemed that for Heero, as for some gay men, pain during anal sex has amounted to a sexual pain disorder and thus became a major source of stress and shame. Fissures, hemorrhoids and a whole lot of nasty were soon to follow, only making things worse. It was impossible for them to consummate their passion fully, and that really drove a wedge between them.

Anodyspareunia, was what the medical jargon called it: a controversial term mirroring the concept of Dyspareunia (pain felt during or after sexual intercourse), used when referring to severe and frequent pain during anoreceptive intercourse. Much like the notorious Vaginismus physical/psychological disorder that affected women's ability to engage in any form of vaginal penetration, this male sexual disorder was associated with pain during intercourse attempts, anticipation of pain due to attempted intercourse, and tensing of the pelvis and anus in response to attempted penetration. It was a vicious cycle, with pain leading to nervousness about intercourse, and nervousness leading to further pain... It had put a real strain on their relationship.

Certainly, that was a problem that could have been solved rather easily if only Duo would have agreed to take on the receptive role in their sexual relationship, but he was never able to relate to a bottom identity and refused to assume such a role.

They found their way around it, getting creative in bed and doing everything else they could come up with for over two years. Finally, Duo insisted that his lover should go see a doctor. They were already seeing a therapist, each going to his own individual session as part of the Preventer Organization mandatory Veteran Rehabilitation Program. However psychotherapy wasn't enough, or so Duo claimed. It wasn't helping this particular problem. He had waited patiently for years, but if this was ever going to work long-term, he said, then Heero needed to find a way to overcome his condition, whether through more psychotherapy, sex therapy, or physiotherapy – whatever it took.

It wasn't an ultimatum, just the plain, hard, truth. Heero knew it, just like Duo did. So he agreed, and sought treatment. It was a long, embarrassing and uncomfortable process of combined psychological and physical treatment, but mostly biofeedback pain-treatment (which included the insertion of various dildos, their size growing as the treatment progressed, on a regular basis). It took a lot of work and perseverance on Heero's part, but he did if for Duo, for love.

Others would have split on Heero long before that, but Duo had stayed; waiting patiently, supporting. Not many lovers would have stuck by Heero through such a long, tedious and often humiliating process, Duo was certain of it. But his love for Heero was strong, always. Sex could wait. The whole world could go fuck itself. He wasn't leaving Heero's side – ever.

After the treatments, things got much better. They were able to consummate their love fully, and it did wonders to their relationship. Suddenly, all the other issues they had faced at the time – mostly PTSD related shit – was trivialized, reduced to minor nuisances. So what if Heero was so God damned anally retentive (no pun intended) – a total pedant and perfectionist prick who valued tidiness and order above all else, and who cared if Duo was the exact opposite – it became nothing to fight about once the whole anodyspareunia ordeal was finally over.

They were twenty years old and fucking invincible. There was nothing they couldn't overcome... perhaps except Heero's close relationship with Relena Darlian, a hard pill for Duo to swallow even to this day. His lover's intimate friendship with the ESUN's Senator and former Princess of Sanc was the only real hurdle they had to face after the anodyspareunia, and since Heero has made it very clear on several occasions that he will not sever his ties with Relena for _any_ reason, it was simply something Duo has learned to accept over the years, granted not without great difficulty.

Having also met in their teens, Heero and Relena had formed a deep connection even before Heero and he became something more than comrades. Relena was a tough act to follow. She was everything he wasn't, and that was why Duo always feared that Heero would open his eyes one day and see that she could offer him things he never could.

Over the years, the two's mutually respectful relationship had formed into a strong friendship. Duo hated how close they were, talking on the phone at least once a week. Heero didn't hide it from him; he didn't see the need because it was all very innocent, but it still bothered Duo. He always felt like he was competing with her. He resented Heero for sharing himself with her, probably telling her all about what went on between them, the good and the bad, no doubt complaining about him when the going got rough. Relena and Heero were fucking BFFs, and Duo hated her for it. He hated the fear their friendship instilled in him.

Duo has always suspected that Heero wasn't strictly gay. He used to assume that Heero was bisexual, which would explain his quasi-platonic/quasi-romantic connection with Relena and was the main reason why Duo feared the two's relationship so much, but knowing Heero as well as he did after all these years he was fairly certain that his lover was _pansexual_ , which was more inclusive than bisexuality. People who considered themselves omnisexual were often gender-blind and open to relationships with those who didn't necessarily identify as strictly men or women. Being as Heero tended to reject the notion of two genders and specific sexual orientation – the main reason why he had no particular problem to assume the role of a bottom whilst rejecting a bottom identity – Duo thought it safe to assume that Heero could be with anyone, as long as he was in love with that person, no matter who they were or how they defined themselves.

That certainly explained why Heero chose to abandon the self-categorization dictated by his sexual role, refusing to project heteronormative roles into the top and bottom labels, thus freeing himself from the loaded nature of the term "bottom" itself. It could be that choosing to be penetrated may have enabled him to subvert some of the stigma associated with "bottoming", because he could also have sex with women if he so wished, reasserting his masculinity if needed. All the more reason to fear his close relationship with Relena, Duo figured. He was terrified of it, and often accused Heero of seeing her behind his back; an accusation Heero resented greatly and always denied fervently. It was never enough for Duo.

 _'Yeah, but do you love her?!'_ He once demanded to know, spitting the angry question out one night when they were fighting over the issue; just one of countless arguments that revolved around Relena Darlian.

 _'Yes,'_ Heero had replied plainly and he had stared at his lover, slack-jawed, hurt. But then Heero added softly: _'Just not the way I love you.'_

Duo had no choice but to accept his answer. He truly wanted to believe, but he was still afraid. Always afraid. Wasn't it ironic? All those years he had lived in fear of Heero cheating on him with Relena, and in the end _he_ was the one who wound up being the cheating bastard.

So yeah. They might have gone through some serious shit, some stuff more difficult than the other, but they always came out the other side, stronger than ever.

And the years went by, one by one... days turning into weeks, which turned into months and before they knew it a whole decade flew by, their youths slipping away before their very eyes. Caught in their daily doldrums, each day began to look so much like the previous, until everything was devoid of meaning. Duo wasn't actively looking for change, never realizing what had gone wrong with his life, but sometime after turning thirty he had realized that _this_ was it – his life. His whole fucking life was going to be exactly what it was today: same old routine, same old partner, same old same old. Day, after day, after day... until death will do them part. A life sentence; a slow and dreary way to die, withering away in the mundane routine of everyday-life.

It didn't make any sense to feel that everything about his life was so _wrong_ , because on paper, things looked _just right_. Considering where he had started off, he had everything he could have ever dream of. At thirty-two, he had managed to build himself a good life, putting his past behind him and laying many demons to rest. He had worked his way up the Preventer Organization food-chain and was an Assistant Special Agent in Charge at the NYC field office. He was also in a secure long-term relationship – practically _married_ – and lived in a great apartment at good Manhattan neighborhood. And though he didn't make it home from work in time for dinner close to four times a weeks, he had a partner who understood, because he was just the same. According to anyone's book, his life was "on track", again – not something he took for granted, considering where he came from. So why, then, did everything feel so completely out of control? Why couldn't he keep it up anymore?

Dr. Collins, his therapist of over twelve years – a woman who knew him inside-out – called it a _"Thrsis"_ : a thirty-something "midlife" crisis. But unlike forty-plus year-old men who went through a typical midlife crisis, he wasn't asking himself "Where has all the time gone?" and wondering how he had wasted his life; instead, he was wondering: "Where is all the time _going_? Where is my life heading?", and more specifically: "How am I going to get there? How do I make this better before it's too late?"

This crisis wasn't about looking back with regret at all he hasn't done, but looking forward, terrified that he'd be spending the next 30 to 60 years in a state of unfulfilling monotony. It was a fight between the rebel in him and responsible adult who had matured in this dull civilian setting. The teenager was still there. He could still do wild, irresponsible things, and he still felt like he didn't know a lot about the world; but at the same time, the responsible part of him was getting stronger, more dominate. The clock was ticking, his youth slipping away. Right now, at this moment, he was still young enough to be both the rebel and the conformist. And that was why, in a way, his thirties were a second adolescence – a last chance to do all the right and wrong he had missed out on when growing up as a child-soldier.

His psychologist said such feelings were common with people who did not have balance in their lives. It made sense. His life was indeed spilt perfectly in two: the chaotic years until the age of sixteen, and the stable life he had live in the sixteen years that followed the war. He had started feeling dissatisfied with his life over a year ago, sensing that something wasn't working for him anymore. His life might have felt long and dragging, but in essence he knew that life was too short and he was running out of it. It was time to do something drastic, and that was where Trowa came in.

His ex-comrade and fellow Preventer agent arrived at New York City on assignment from the Colonies about a year ago, temporarily assigned to the NYC field office where Heero and he worked. Not long after, something sparked between them. Duo couldn't quite tell what it was exactly which had ignited that spark. It must have been that Trowa reminded him of Heero in a way, but then again, in a lot of other ways, he didn't. And in all honesty, Duo had no idea what Trowa saw in him, because he was nowhere near as _cute and cuddly_ as Quatre. And yet, there was no denying that something irresistible was pulling them towards each other, despite both of them being in long-term relationships and from the same close group of friends. On the contrary, Duo rationalized that it felt a little less like betrayal if it was one of them, one of the pilots.

It didn't matter what it was, what mattered was that they couldn't fight it. It was an opportunity Duo couldn't resist, a chance to break the rules completely. He was already in a relationship that didn't exactly have society's seal of approval, which was almost always the bland combination of a heterosexual, married, procreative and intra-racial couple. Being with Heero went against all that, but at least they had monogamy in their favor. Breaking the monogamous seal of approval was just what he needed to break _all_ the rules.

Trowa was the best thing that's happened to him in a long time. They've been seeing each other in secret all year, meeting in a modest Brooklynn motel. It wasn't hard to find excuses to get out of the house. Duo simply told Heero that Dr. Collins asked him to change their sessions from a bi-weekly to a weekly basis, because he was working through some issues. Heero didn't find that suspicious. Add to that a few "physiotherapy sessions" he said he must attend because an old knee injury was beginning to bother him chronically, and he had the perfect excuse to get away once or twice a week. Then, there was also the occasional booty-call at work, mainly when Heero was away on assignment. They worked their way around Heero, finding enough time to be together to make their relationship more than just sex. That was when it became dangerous, because it became real.

It was time to cut his losses and leave. Having had his needs fulfilled, Duo felt it safe to say that the crisis – at least the one that led him into Trowa's arms and this whole mess – was over, for now. He was ready to go back home, back to Heero – the only man with whom he could see himself spending the next 60 or so years. Being with Trowa has been great, but they could never share the things he shared with Heero. It just wasn't possible after so many years together. Heero was the only one for him, and he was afraid of losing that.

Game over. He was done playing.

"I'm so sorry, Trowa," he whispered sadly, his eyes downcast. "I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry."

"I understand," the taller man whispered solemnly, his somber green eyes shimmering sadly under the colorful Christmas lights decorating the Rockefeller Promenade.

Both men turned to face the rink, leaning against the railing. They stood silently, watching the skaters, all laughing and smiling as they twirled across the ice without a care in the world.

"I'll return to L3," Trowa stated steadily, his handsome features cool and composed, his eyes never averting from the rink.

"Probably for the best," Duo agreed, also looking down at the arena.

"He's a lucky man," Trowa added quietly, almost ruefully.

Duo bowed his head down, ashamed. "Not so sure about that..." he murmured bitterly.

"Then make certain of it," his now-former-lover demanded, turning to face him with his penetrating green eyes that compelled Duo to nod his head in silent agreement, looking Trowa in the eyes as he promised to do just that.

Trowa smiled; just a small tug on his lips. "Good," he said and turned on his heels, preparing to leave. "Merry Christmas, Duo," he said simply.

Although his eyes were gleaming guiltily with tears, Duo smiled back, just as sadly. "Merry Christmas, Tro," he greeted back.

The other man nodded once and then stepped away. He stopped then, his back facing Duo, shoulders rigid under his thick coat. "I think it'd be best we never see each other again," he decided firmly.

Duo nodded quietly in agreement, even if Trowa couldn't see it. His answer was obvious.

Trowa lingered for a second longer, and then resumed walking away. Duo watched him as he disappeared down the promenade, making his way down Rockefeller Plaza towards W 50th Street, until he was gone.

After taking one last drag on his nearly burnt-out cigarette, Duo crushed the burning butt against the railing and then threw it onto the pavement. He picked up his "DEAN & DELUCA" bag, shoved his other hand into his coat pocket and turned to leave as well. He headed the opposite way from where Trowa had gone, walking southeast on W 49th Street towards 5th Avenue. He took a left onto Madison, approaching Saint Patrick's Cathedral from behind. The iconic New York church took up a whole city block, its impressive spires soaring about 300 feet from street level. Duo walked around the cathedral to reach the entrance on 5th Avenue. Surely Trowa was long gone by now.

It was close to midnight and people were pouring into the massive grayish-brown marble structure. Most have requested tickets starting at the end of summer, being as the Midnight Mass at NYC's great cathedral was in popular demand. Duo was probably one of a lucky few who managed to acquire last-minute tickets, perhaps because he was coming alone. He joined the swarm of worshipers moving into the ancient cathedral, looking up in awe as he passed through the magnificent gates. His insides vibrated with a sense of divine reverence; he had a feeling that he was doing the right thing, because if God was anywhere tonight, it was right here, in New York City.

* * *

Almost two and a half hours later, Midnight Mass ended and the crowd began to scatter slowly. Duo was one of the first to leave the large cathedral. Despite having broken up with Trowa merely hours earlier, he felt strangely elevated. The breathtaking church has had a very calming effect on him, soothing his spirit as only God could. St. Patrick's was grander and even more magnificent on the inside, with all the candles lit and the windows that seemed to glow. Even though it was a bit touristy, it still retained an air of holiness. It was a great place for some quiet reflection. He had enjoyed the Mass. The choir was absolutely divine, and the Cardinal's sermon was extremely engaging. Duo drank every word hungrily, desperate to cling onto something beautiful and pure. He really would have liked to go to confession before the night's end, but that would have to wait for a quieter and less busy day for the church.

He was still carrying his prestigious "DEAN & DELUCA" grocery bag as he stepped out of the church and onto 5th Avenue. He planned on making Heero a delightful breakfast come Christmas morning, just a few hours away. His lover was probably fast asleep at this late hour. He couldn't wait to get home and lie next to him.

He began making his short journey towards the 47-50th Street Rockefeller Center subway station, hoping to catch the 2:43 AM F Train to East Village and be back home by 3 AM. He'd catch a couple of hours of sleep and then wake up before Heero to make the fancy breakfast he planned on serving his love in bed.

Passing by Rockefeller Center again on his way to the subway, Duo was surprised to see that the promenade on Rockefeller Plaza has been closed for pedestrian passage, adding an unnecessary detour to his route. He was cutting it pretty close to 2:43 AM, so despite his annoyance he decided not to linger and stare. He prepared to continue along W 49th Street, when he noticed that it was an NYPD patrol car blocking the entrance to the promenade, its red and blue lights flashing in the night. An armed cop stood leaning against it, drinking a Starbucks coffee and looking rather weary as he manned his post beside a yellow pedestrian barrier. The disgruntled-looking cop wasn't the only one guarding the area around the rink. Duo spotted six Secret Service agents, armed and ready for anything, standing in key strategic positions surrounding the ice rink. He frowned warily at the unusual sight.

Much like always, Duo allowed his curiosity to get the better of him and instead of hurrying to catch the train, he stepped onto the promenade and made his way towards the coffee-drinking officer.

"Hey, man, what gives?" He asked casually as he approached, gesturing with his head towards the well-guarded rink. Knowing that he will be asked to leave the premises immediately, he reached into his jeans' back pocket and pulled out his wallet, flashing his Preventer badge at the cop. The middle-aged man seemed relieved that it was only a fellow law-enforcer asking questions instead of some troublemaker.

"Ah, some _big shot_ reserved the rink for a private skating session," the man muttered groggily, sighing. "Got stuck _babysitting_ , ya see," he gestured down at himself with his paper coffee cup. "Nothing to worry about, though," he added, smiling at Duo. "You go on now, son. Have yourself a merry Christmas."

Duo turned his head in the direction of the rink, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever's down there. It wasn't unheard of that the Rockefeller Rink could be rented out for an hour or so to hold a private ice skating session; if one could afford it. Duo estimated that one would have to pay a pretty hefty sum to rent it on Christmas Eve, even at this late hour. This was the kind of romance only the wealthy could afford. It made him sick, but then a thought struck him and he smiled, suddenly entertaining the notion that it might be Quatre Winner twirling on the ice after reuniting and reconciling with his lover.

His wistful smile slowly vanished, for he knew that it probably wasn't so. He felt bad for Trowa. Here he was hurrying home to his lover when Trowa had no home to return to now that Quatre knew about their affair. He supposed that some problems couldn't be solved with money, no matter how much of it one happened to possess.

God, he will burn in Hell for this.

"Must be some VIP, huh?" He asks the cop, tucking his wallet back into his back pocket. "A movie star? Politician?" He ventured a guess, quirking an eyebrow at the older man.

The cop smiled in apology. "I'm afraid I can't say," he apologized, "but they're just about done if you haffta pass through. It'll only take a few more minutes."

Duo looked down at his wristwatch. It was 2:36 AM. He had less than ten minutes to get to the subway.

"Nah, thanks, I gotta go," he said, smiling thankfully at the police officer. "Merry Christmas," he wished the man, and turned to leave.

"Merry Christmas, sir."

Duo sent one last look towards the rink a couple of hundred meters away, hoping maybe he'd catch sight of the mysterious celebrity who was costing him two precious minutes off his trip. He somehow managed to make out two blurry figures skating swiftly across the rink, but they moved too fast and were too far to get a clear look. He got the impression that they were a man and a woman, both dressed in thick winter attire that made it impossible to distinguish any distinct features from their physiques. They could be anyone, he figured, disappointed, but then he did catch a glimpse of long waving blonde hair flapping wildly behind the woman as she skidded graciously across the ice and was then twirled by her partner, laughing happily as he pulled her into his arms.

 _Heh_ , Duo snickered internally, _must be nice being so crazy in love._

Having no more time to spare, he hurried down W 49th Street, sprinting most of the way. He made it to the subway just in the nick of time, mere second before the F Train departed. He made it home less than twenty minutes later, stepping quietly through the front door and into a dark apartment. As expected, Heero was already asleep.

Duo shed his coat, scarf, gloves and hat by the door and tip-toed carefully into the kitchen. He placed the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and then rubbed his palms together, trying to gain some warmth from the friction. Even with the gloves he'd been wearing, his hands still suffered from the cold; it was fucking freezing out there.

He then made his way quietly towards the dark bedroom down the hall. His eyes have already adjusted to the darkness, and he spotted a familiar silhouette lying in bed under the covers. He smiled softly; a warm and thankful smile of a man who's found a new appreciation for the simple act of coming home.

He got out of his jeans and sweater quickly on the way to his side of the bed, remaining in his boxers and undershirt. He crawled under the covers next to Heero. His lover was lying on his side facing the door, his back turned to Duo. The bed was cold; the sheets on his so-far empty side of the bed bit into the naked skin on his legs. He inched closer to Heero, wishing to feel his warmth. Lying spooned against his lover, he slipped an arm around the man's slim waist, sneaking the tip of his fingers under Heero's T-shirt to feel the smooth skin underneath. Strangely, he felt no warmth, but perhaps it was because his own hands were still numb from the cold.

Heero did not stir despite the cold touch on his abdomen, but he did let out a groggy "How was church..?"

Duo smiled softly in the dark, touched by the simple question. "Enlightening," he whispered and stretched his arm, the one wrapped around Heero, a bit further, searching for his lover's hand. He found it resting limply against the bed, and clasped Heero's hand tightly. He was about to apologize for waking him, when his mind suddenly registered that Heero's hand was also cold; too cold for someone who's been lying in a warm bed all night long.

He frowned, forehead creasing warily. His mind flashed back to the VIP couple skating at the Rink, and his imagination supplied him with the missing pieces of what he had failed to see, replacing the blurry faces he had witnessed with those of Heero's and Relena's features. He imagined the two skidding gracefully together under the majestic Christmas tree, laughing like a young couple in love. Heero twirled Relena and her long dirty-blonde hair danced around her like a silk veil. She laughed melodiously as Heero pulled her into his arms, pressing her against him for a kiss.

 _Nah..._ Duo shook his head, dismissing the silly images. _Can't be_ , he determined, refusing to give it another thought. He curled closer against Heero, nuzzling his nose in the nape of his neck, inhaling his clean scent while trying to ignore the fact that Heero's neck was just as cold and the short hairs at the back of his neck were wet as though snowflakes had melted into his hair... or he could have taken a shower before bed. Was he reading too much into this? Even if Heero _did_ sneak out of the house to meet her tonight, who was to say that it was a romantic date and not just two good friends having fun? But why would Heero hide "having fun" unless it wasn't innocent? Could it be that Heero's been seeing Relena the whole time he's been seeing Trowa? No way. Heero would never do that to him... right? But then again, he never thought he'd do such a dishonorable thing to Heero, so...

And what about those weird _"Touch Therapy"_ sessions Heero's been attending lately? Those so-called "trauma recovery massages" that didn't seem to help... were they just an excuse to get out of the house, like his own fake physiotherapy sessions for his _"bad knee"_? Could it be that Heero has been playing him this whole time? Have they been playing each other? Were things really that bad between them? So bad that Heero might have also had an affair?

 _Shit_. He grimaced, closing his eyes sadly.

 _Even if it is true,_ he then decided, _I don't want to know._

He will fix this.

Inching closer to Heero, he clung desperately onto him, hugging Heero close and squeezing his cold hand firmly. He buried his face in the back of Heero's head, burrowing his nose in his hair, rubbing it left and right while inhaling his lover's familiar scent deeply.

Heero didn't move a muscle through all of it, lying stiffly by Duo's side. Assuming that his spouse was giving him the cold shoulder, Duo felt his heart sink painfully. He had no way of knowing if Heero suspected anything, or if his own suspicions were true. He just wanted to make it better. He wanted to make it up to Heero, somehow. He had to earn the man's trust again, and to clearly show his own. He wanted a clean slate, and there was only one way he could think of to regain their mutual trust, because when he stopped to think about it, there was only one thing he had left to give Heero, the only thing he truly wanted Heero to have – and that was himself.

"Heero," he whispered despairingly into his lover's ear, leaning closer to him. "Let's switch."

Heero turned around, slowly, his blue eyes glimmering in the dark as he searched for Duo's face. He seemed confused, so Duo offered a small, helpless smile.

"I want you to take me," he said, and felt Heero's body tense against him, alarmed.

"Don't say no," he hurried to say, placing a gentle finger against Heero's lips; they were cold to the touch, and Duo felt his chest contract with sorrow. He had no doubt now that Heero had spent the night outside in the cold. Somewhere so cold, that he needed more time to warm up... like an ice rink.

"We've been doing this dance one way for so long, and I think... I think it'll be good for us if we made a switch, yanno?" He tried to explain, speaking quietly in the dark while gazing into his lover's eyes. The faint blue halo filtering through the blinds covering the window behind him were reflected dimly in Heero's eyes, making them gleam in the dark. It was not a soulful glimmer, nor was it cold or hard. Heero seemed cautious, wary even. He was frowning at Duo, trying to figure him out.

After all these years of stubbornly refusing to be bottom, even for just one night, he was suddenly offering himself to Heero, moving past his power complex, trying to be both masculine _and_ receptive. All these years he has struggled with what it _meant_ to be penetrated, mistaking the act of being _receptive_ for being _feminine_.

He wanted to feel close to Heero, as closest as he could ever let Heero be... inside of him. He wanted to reconnect with his lover, both physically and spiritually, and the only way he could achieve such fusion was if he offered himself to Heero. Maybe then, they'd finally lose themselves as two lovers and merge into one being, if only temporarily. Even a brief touch of forever will be enough at this point, as long as it was Heero who was touching it with him.

"Duo." Heero's voice vibrated through him and he shook his head, his finger still resting gently against Heero's bottom lip, silencing his protest.

"Don't overthink it," he implored miserably, looking pleadingly into Heero's eyes. "Just... just... just take me," he whispered, lowering his hand back down, away from Heero's lip. "Please," he added quietly, ashamed. "I want to be with you, Heero... more than ever, if you'll have me."

Heero hesitated; Duo could see the struggle in his eyes. His heart thumped forcefully in his chest, thudding so hard he imagined one could see it through his undershirt. He waited anxiously as though awaiting a death sentence. Everything depended what Heero would choose to do.

And Heero kissed him, softly. He sat up and leaned forward, raising his hand to cup Duo's face gently. He reached his other hand to caress Duo's hair, still wet from the melted snow, pushing Duo's head closer to deepen the kiss.

Duo's prayer has been answered. The desperation and passion of Heero's kiss were his answer. He was still welcomed in this bed, still welcome in Heero's arms. They will get through this, like they always did.

He surrendered himself to Heero's ministrations, allowing his lover to lay him down on the bed. They made love until day break, bodies getting reacquainted, hearts and souls reconnecting through touch and sweat.

Never in his life has Duo felt so good about doing what's right. He has found God tonight; found forever. He has found that eternity could indeed lie with a single person. He has found all of this in Heero Yuy, his one and only – then, now, and forever.

As God was his witness, he will never stray again.

 _The End._

* * *

 ** _"I believe that love is the greatest thing in the world; that it alone can overcome hate; that right can and will triumph over might."_**

 _John D. Rockefeller, Jr._

* * *

[1] In his iconic essay "Is the Rectum a Grave?" Bersani (1987) famously argued that "to be penetrated is to abdicate power" (p. 212).


End file.
